Here I Stay
by Sirabella
Summary: Set post-series *including the Christmas special*.  Sara is returning to Avonlea after several years of studying in Paris.  She has a specific reason for coming home now, though, and her secret threatens to destroy the joy of her family at her return.
1. Chapter 1

Sara laid her head against the frozen window pane of the railway car and coughed miserably. Avonlea was rolling closer with every click and turn of the wheels, but she felt increasingly nervous and nauseated, not less. The land was just at the onset of winter in these parts, though, and that was good; the perfect time to go home. Aunt Hetty had written her just last week with uncharacteristic warmth and subtly worded excitement. Aunt Olivia and Uncle Jasper would be there, too, visiting, their last one before Christmas, coincidentally. Of course Hetty would have everyone stay nowhere but Rose Cottage, and Sara had smiled, imagining her Aunt Janet's relief that only the cooking and not the continual hosting of so many people would be foisted off on her. Hetty, of course, would make sure that they all ate at King Farm every night.

Sara was glad, though. Felicity and Gus were not far away, and she would see them whenever she wanted. Felix was home at the farm for the time being, working at the White Sands again after he'd been released from his army obligations, courtesy of his irreparably weakened arm. He was doing much better, Hetty had said. Hale and cheerful at work and at mealtimes, although doing considerably more justice to the latter, just like the old chubby Felix again... most of the time. Aunt Janet's postscript to Hetty's letter had hinted at dark moods and occasional, inexplicable volatility, which Clive Pettibone had tried to explain were normal after such an extremely traumatic wartime experience. It was clear, though, that Janet was constantly wondering how long it would last. Felix showed no indications of desiring to become a farmer or to resume what could once almost have been called his courtship of Izzy. He showed no interest in anything but busy days and his family around him to fill in the quiet moments.

Cecily... Away at school until Christmastime. Sara had blown out a relieved breath when she'd read that. Good. Plenty of time. Uncle Alec and Aunt Janet had been so proud of their little girl for being accepted to Redmond, although they had both said yes with reservations. Cecily had not shown a single symptom since she'd returned from the sanitarium, but Sara knew the terror and agony her aunt and uncle had endured over the course of Cecily's illness would never fully evaporate, even if Cecily went forty years without a relapse. Sara closed her eyes and tried to ignore the guilt churning in her stomach.

Home. It was a pleasant prospect, in spite of the... complications. Damocles' sword would fall, yes, but once they'd mopped up the aftermath, it would be alright. Everything was going to be fine, she kept telling herself. As long as she was in Avonlea, surrounded by so many people who loved her and whom she adored more than life, there was no need to be afraid.

Sara laughed out loud, startling several nearby passengers. It had just occurred to her that she would have had more peace and quiet and time to write at King Farm than she would at Rose Cottage on a daily basis. The thought was absurd, but it was true. Daniel was the only child left at King Farm, and he was not really very small anymore, whereas Rose Cottage currently housed Davey and Dora and had recently also added Montgomery and the new baby to its ranks, if only temporarily. Poor Aunt Hetty. For a woman who in spite of her truly loving heart was not really designed for motherhood, she was certainly taking on a lot of the associated responsibilities. She'd had some practice, though, with Sara herself.

The conductor's gruff shout snapped Sara out of her thoughts, and she jumped a bit in her seat. Five minutes. In five minutes she'd be home. There was hardly a thought of Paris left in her head.

- ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ -

Sara leaped out onto the platform, completely missing the disgruntled looks of assorted fellow passengers, porters and waiting bystanders whom she'd flown past like a tornado and nearly uprooted. She made a beeline for the little group who stood near the central car with necks craning in all directions, although she felt a slight shock of disappointment and concern when there was no sign of Aunt Hetty. Sara knew only the Devil himself would have prevented her. There were only two things in her life that Hetty King would label with that unhesitating description: her tormented back... and Davey Keith.

But there were four very familiar faces waiting. Sara launched herself at the closest one, nearly bursting into tears at the old, familiar feeling of Aunt Olivia's arms around her and the soft, brown curls brushing her cheek. Sara pulled back to get a better look and was amazed and relieved at how little the sweet, sympathetic face had changed. One or two wrinkles and a few gray hairs were all the damage Aunt Olivia had to show for becoming a mother twice over.

Although Sara had managed to restrain her tears, Olivia hadn't, and in the midst of them and many more kisses Sara turned away to look straight into Felix' frank, affectionate face. His embrace was softer than it used to be, but still a little shy and boyish, and his "welcome home, Sara" was all the speech he looked inclined to give.

Felicity stood next to him, and Sara gasped in happy surprise as she took in her cousin's rounded figure and rosy cheeks. "Felicity!" she exclaimed, wrapping her slender arms as best she could around the slight bulk of her cousin's middle. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Felicity blushed. "It isn't the sort of thing you discuss over the telephone. And a letter would have gotten there after you'd left; at least, it would have after waiting for the confirmation from the doctor."

Sara smiled. Felicity always needed to be so sure of things.

"Don't suppose you've got a hug for the old man?" came the fourth voice over Felix' shoulder.

Sara laughed a little guiltily, and this time when she threw herself into familiar, comforting arms, she couldn't prevent the tears from spilling over. "Uncle Alec," she gasped. "Uncle Alec." It had always lain mostly unspoken between them, but Sara felt the thrust of it now like a dagger to her heart: he'd always been the only man she'd ever loved nearly as much as she'd loved her father, and that kind of protection from the world was just what she wanted right now more than anything.

Uncle Alec's arms tightened around her. "Sara...?" He sounded worried, and Sara gulped, sniffed and leaned back a little, reaching for the handkerchief she instinctively knew would be waiting.

"Sorry," she murmured, giggling a little awkwardly. "Just been kind of homesick, I suppose." She didn't have to force a smile to her face as she gazed around at each of them in turn. "You can't know how much I've missed being here with all of you." Wishing to needle a response out of the (to her) unusually laconic Felix, she added: "Even you, Felix."

His old, characteristic grin flashed back at her for one brief moment, and the slight gloom on her soul lifted. Seeing that Uncle Alec had already taken up her bag in one hand and Felicity's elbow with the other, Sara looped one arm through Felix' and the other through Aunt Olivia's. "Let's go home."

-To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

-This chapter is so much more depressing than I meant it to be; sorry... but the next one will be full of good old Avonlea rainbows and sunshine, I promise.-

The arrival at Rose Cottage was a chaotic mess. Sara was convinced that the King of England never had a more enthusiastic welcome than exploded out of that little yellow house to greet one pale, blond girl who had finally come home to stay. Davey was ecstatic to have "company" at last; it turned out that Hetty's back _had_ been the reason for her absence at the train station, and her lack of mobility, combined with some temporary, stroke-related malaise of Rachel's, meant that Davey had "no one to play with." He liked Dora alright, of course, as she was his sister, after all; but she was more like a life-size doll than a playmate, she was so quiet and good all the time. All this came pouring out into Sara's eager ears on the short walk from the buggy to the front door.

Janet had come over to look after everyone and had brought Daniel with her, but Davey was not too fond of him; he only sat and read aloud to Mrs. Lynde from the Bible and lots of other books, for hours and hours. Sara smiled; obviously the slightly older boy was acting a little superior for Davey's benefit. Daniel had always been almost as hopeless a scapegrace as Davey, and everyone but Davey knew it well.

Hetty was ensconced on the sofa in the sitting room with several quilts piled around, over and beneath her so that only her face, pinched with pain and the frustration of being so helpless, was visible at the end like an incomplete mummy, and Sara happily snuggled into the pile, careful not to jostle her aunt. Now that Sara had finally arrived and was physically within reach, Hetty relaxed, and they both lay back and listened to the surrounding mayhem, occasionally contributing a remark when it was called for - and in Hetty's case, often when it wasn't.

"Aunt Olivia," Sara wanted to know, suddenly realizing that all were not present and accounted for. "Where's Uncle Jasper?"

"Oh, he took Montgomery and the baby on a sort of tour of Avonlea, looking over all our old haunts, you know, the places we went on interviews for the Chronicle, all the spots that were important to us."

Sara grinned. "But what if he runs into any old acquaintances? He'll have to talk to them."

Olivia laughed her high, ringing chuckle. "Actually, no. You'd be surprised how toting around two such sweet little boys distracts people's attention so you hardly have to say two words to them; they spend the whole time exclaiming over the children."

"It's just a _baby_," Davey groaned, evidently feeling that the collective attention of the room had been off of him long enough. "It doesn't _do_ anything. When is it going to grow up, Ms. Dale?"

Olivia smiled. "Soon enough for everyone but you, I should think, Davey. Too soon."

"Montgomery's getting so big," Hetty declared proudly. "He gets top marks in school, and" - with a pointed look in Davey's direction - "I never have to tell him anything twice. He's the most attentive child I've ever seen."

"He's alright, I guess," Davey muttered. "And he knows lots of jokes. But he isn't so big. And he only wants to talk about England all the time. I bet I know more about it now than any English people."

Sara couldn't help it; she burst into giggles. "Davey Keith," she scolded playfully, "envy is a sin. Don't worry, Davey-boy; I'm here now, and I won't let you get bored."

Davey missed most of the sarcasm in this assurance. "Thanks ever so much, Sara. Sara likes me," he added defiantly to anyone in the room who might be inclined to shower any more praise on any other boy in the near future.

Felicity sighed over-dramatically. "I pray every night for God to give me a daughter," she said half-seriously. "I think Gus wants a son, but I'm not sure he understands all that's involved in raising a boy. He was an only child."

The quick flash of a grin made another appearance on Felix' worn face. "What are you saying, Felicity? Don't you remember all the good times we had?"

Incredulous glances from his parents, sister and cousin spoke eloquently in the silence that followed this absurd remark. Felicity raised an eyebrow. "As I recall, I spent most of my time ordering you around, and you spent most of yours devouring everything I tried to cook and finding new and creative ways to upset the order of my little kingdom."

"Well, you really will be that child's mother; he or she will have to do as you say. You only _thought_ you were mine."

Felicity's only answer was a halfhearted swipe at her brother's head with a cushion, but Sara was amused at the incredulous glance that passed between her uncle and aunt at the off-hand assertion that children were naturally duty-bound to obey their parents.

"I think you're confusing parenting with soldiering," was Hetty's thoughtless comment.

"Of course, how foolish of me," Felix retorted, and a burn of alarm flared in Sara's throat as she saw what Aunt Janet had meant in that halting postscript. So this was what Janet had delicately referred to as one of his 'moods.' It was now drifting like a mass of thunderclouds over Felix' formerly placid expression. It was truly frightening to witness; in that moment, Sara felt she was looking at someone, or some_thing_, else that had stolen away the carefree boy and left behind this... this specter in his place. In that moment, she didn't know him, and she felt the burn shift from her throat and strike at her heart as she caught Uncle Alec's and Aunt Janet's pained expressions out of the corner of her eye. 'How it must hurt them,' she agonized, 'to find sometimes that they don't recognize their own son.'

Felix wasn't done. "I suppose it makes sense to someone," he mused darkly. "Maybe God, I don't know. Refuse to feed the chickens when you're told, and you get a bit of a lecture; maybe you have to go to bed without pudding. But try to refuse when your country tells you to go crouch in a wet, muddy ditch, fire as many bullets into other human beings as you can before theirs find you, and keep doing it while you're watching childhood friends getting blown to smithereens along with pieces of your own flesh... try to say no to that irresistible invitation, and you're immediately an enemy to your homeland and your crown, shunned by your friends and relations and wishing you hadn't been such a coward as to choose to stay alive. Who wouldn't prefer to run through the dropping bombs, kill some Germans for King George and have people call you a hero if by some miracle you make it out the other side?"

Early on in this dreadful speech, Hetty had clapped her hands over Davey's ears, and Olivia had done the same for Dora. Daniel was upstairs with Rachel, but if he had been in the room, Sara was sure Janet's hands would be clamped over his head as well.

Felix looked miles away and thoroughly impenitent - until he caught sight of Sara, who had tears streaming down her cheeks. Remorse flitted across his eyes then, and he said softly, "I'm sorry, Sara. I don't mean to spoil everything."

Sara choked and wiped her eyes hurriedly. "It's alright, Felix. Just because I'm home doesn't mean you have to be glad, if you're really...not."

She was cheered by the instant, fervent response. "I am, Sara. You have no idea how glad. To be here, with everyone, instead of... there. With mud and death for company... I'd have happily lost the whole arm, and the other one, too, if it had been the only way to come home. Don't mind me if I sometimes get the feeling it isn't quite real, still. Sometimes, the things that happened... they feel like they happened five minutes ago. But I'm hoping to forget, someday. A little."

"I hope so, too, Felix," Sara whispered. "God, I hope so."

"Amen," Uncle Alec whispered hoarsely from the corner where he sat with his wife's face pressed into his shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: I should have re-watched the last one or two seasons of Avonlea before I started this story. I completely forgot about the baby girl Olivia and Jasper took in. And probably some other things as well. Oh, well, just take it as you find it, I guess._

Sara lay awake that night, unable to keep her mind from churning over everything that had happened in one brief homecoming. This was not the idyllic PEI of her childhood. War had changed it; time itself had changed it and all the people that made it so dear to her. She had thought she was coming home for her own happiness, her own comfort. But what if she was here to try to brighten up the lives of those around her, just a little bit?

Of course, this meant a retooled strategy. Sara had wanted to avoid the subject entirely, but since that was not an option, she had thought to wait only a few days before having everything out, to give them and herself a little time just to rejoice in the reunion. But she was thinking now that to tell them anything before she absolutely had to - when Cecily's return was imminent - would be too cruel and serve no purpose whatsoever. Unless...there was even less time than that.

The next morning, after helping Aunt Olivia with all of the chores around the cottage, Sara started off along the road to the farm. As glad as she was to have this time with Aunt Hetty and Aunt Olivia, and as miserable as Hetty was with her back giving her so much trouble, Sara knew that the real trouble was simmering at King Farm. She wanted to be there, to cheer up Felix, to help Aunt Janet with the house and with Daniel, to help Uncle Alec with anything around the farm of which Felix was no longer and Daniel not yet capable. Her aunt and uncle were missing Cecily, concerned for Felicity with her time growing nearer, and worried sick about Felix. She needed to be with them.

"Morning," she chirped as Aunt Janet opened the door in surprise, apron covered in assorted baking materials and hair flying in every direction. Sara giggled. "Looks like I'm a little late. But I'm here now, so put me to work, Auntie."

"Sara, dear," Aunt Janet hesitated. "We thought you'd want to spend some time at the cottage. We didn't want you home just for the sake of another pair of hands."

"There's nothing wrong with my hands, Aunt Janet. They work just as well as the rest of me, and certainly more productively than my mouth chattering or my feet lounging around. If you want my help, I'm here to give it."

"She wants it," Daniel remarked, staggering through the back door, dragging a bundle of firewood bigger than the torso supporting it. "Mother, now that Sara's here, may I please go visit Mrs. Lynde?"

"Of course, dear, but I can't understand this fascination with Rachel Lynde; as far as I can see, she spends most of her time criticizing others, especially children."

"She just prefers people who don't raise a fuss," Daniel retorted, and Sara's eyebrows shot up; it wasn't a show for Davey's benefit after all. Daniel really was making a violent swing away from Felix' childhood behavior in the direction of adolescent Felicity's superior, know-it-all attitude. Another trial. Sara thought wryly that when she arrived in heaven, she would have a lot of questions for the Lord.

"She likes it when I read Wordsworth to her, and she likes Whitman and Emerson, too. She says I make things sound the way the writers must've heard them in their heads when they wrote them."

Sara poked a finger into the puffed little chest by way of deflating it. "Why don't you come up with your own stories? Your brother and sisters and I used to do that when we were young, and it was great fun. That way everyone can hear what you have to tell, not just what you can read out of other people's words."

Daniel nodded reluctantly. "Yes, maybe. I'm off now. See you later, Mother." He made a quick escape, nursing his ego all the way out the door, Sara thought.

"Just like Felicity," Janet sighed unnecessarily. "But we know she turned out alright. Daniel will, too."

"He's trying to discover who he is," Sara murmured. "Once he has, he'll settle down a bit, just as Felicity did after she began to love Gus. He was always better than anyone at holding a mirror up to her soul."

"And what about you, dear?" Janet prompted, leading Sara into battle with the oven and all the ingredients of dinner. "I remember you wrote us you had completed your studies and were living and writing in Paris. That must have been wonderful. Why did you decide to give it up?"

Sara swallowed hard; she had known she'd be asked this question, probably multiple times, and she had an answer ready, but she still didn't feel prepared. "It _was_ wonderful, Aunt Janet. I was beginning to have some success, a couple of articles published in the local paper, that sort of thing. But as much as I wanted to write, Paris wasn't helping my confidence... I don't know if you can understand the way such a huge city looms over you, like a gigantic wave that is constantly threatening to crash down on you, so you have to paddle and paddle as hard as you can just to stay afloat. Living like that, without room to breathe... it just didn't compare to what I could come back to here in Avonlea. This place isn't a tidal wave; it's a buoy for a weary traveler to rest on. I realized that's what I need."

"For how long, Sara?" The question was asked briskly, so that one might almost think Aunt Janet was merely curious. Sara smiled.

"Forever, Aunt Janet," she said softly. "I'm home to stay."

Janet sighed. "It's not that I don't believe you, Sara, and I certainly want to. It's just... you're still so young. How do you know what you want to do for the rest of your life? What if you regret giving up the opportunities to pursue your dream that existed in Europe? There's still so much for you to experience and enjoy; how do you know you'll be happy with only the things you can have here?"

Sara had gone pale, but she quickly found something to say that would reassure both of them. "Because this is where I belong. It's where I'm needed and where I need to be."

"Oh, Sara," Janet admonished, turning to face her niece straight-on. "I hope you haven't given up everything you've worked and hoped for in favor of staying here just because things with us aren't as cozy and ideal as you remembered. It's not that we haven't missed you, or that we don't want you to stay here as long as you like, but we would get by without you. It's sweet of you to want to help, but maybe some things, once broken, can't be mended."

Sara froze. "Yes, that's true. Even Avonlea isn't immune to the changes that time - and war - can bring. And things here won't ever be the same as they were when I was small. But I'm not a child, and I don't want a child's carefree happiness. I want a woman's joy, Aunt Janet, and I can't find that in Paris, not now. I wish you wouldn't think of it as some kind of sacrifice on my part; this is what I want, the only thing I want."

The passion in this speech started a fit of coughing in Sara that she was hard-pressed to bring under control, even with the help of her aunt and a glass of water. When it was over, Sara cringed to see Janet looking so shaken. "Are you alright, Sara? Let me make you some tea."

Sara nodded. "Thank you, I'd love some. I suppose I must have caught cold on the journey." She was unable to shake off her aunt's concern, however, and unfortunately had still not managed it by the time her uncle strode in the back door to find her still sipping tea at the kitchen table with her aunt hovering over the back of her chair.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: For any medical mistakes, I ask your forgiveness; I know very little and evaded/improvised a lot for the sake of the story._

_I seem to be in love with the word 'incredulous.' Have fun with it, though. Don't flame me; play a drinking game._

Sara looked at his bemused face and sighed. "Aunt Janet, this is a bit too much fuss. I'm perfectly alright now. I'd appreciate it if you would let me vacate this chair," she added, smirking slightly at the corresponding amusement in her uncle's expression.

"Poor little chick, back in the nest already in less than 24 hours," Uncle Alec teased.

"Yes, well, I don't suppose you'd have reacted any differently if you'd been here to hear her... coughing fit to burst." The last words lowered Janet's affronted tone to little more than a whisper.

The smile slipped from Alec's face as if it had never been there, and Sara was angry. She couldn't tell them yet, especially not like this. And it was so unfair! She hadn't had enough time simply to be home and enjoy it yet. "That was totally unnecessary!" she snapped. "I'm sorry to have worried you, but I'm not an invalid, and I won't be treated like one! I came today to help, either in the house or on the farm, and just to... spend time together, not to make anyone concerned about me." The strident tone faded, and Sara's next words were soft. "You asked me before, Aunt Janet, whether I might regret giving up Paris and coming home for good. The answer is: yes, if, and only if, I am to be just another source of worry and disquiet for you." Sara paused for a moment, and her eyes were unfocused. "I thought it would be worse if I weren't here when..."

She cut herself off, realizing what she'd been about to say. 'Maybe I should just tell them, get it over with.' It seemed to her that Uncle Alec read her mind, for he took her by the shoulders and asked, almost fearfully: "Sara, what is it you're not telling us?"

Sara lowered her eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry, I probably should have told you first thing, only I wanted us to have some time just to be glad that I was home. I thought that perhaps I could make some things better before... oh, I don't know how to do this!" She felt Uncle Alec's fingers encircling each elbow, gently tugging her close, but she held back, grabbing up fistfuls of his woolly cardigan instead. That cardigan was an old friend, and it seemed to have the power to steady her, so she held on tightly as she continued to force the words out. "I think it must have been about a year ago when I noticed something was wrong... I had a cough that wouldn't leave, and sometimes, trouble breathing. I was delivering an article to an editor when I fainted on his carpet. He called his physician, who couldn't do much after reviving me... I saw three other doctors, and they all agreed..." Sara's fingers tightened, and her gaze stayed on her shoes. "Virulent tuberculosis. All they could suggest was the sanitarium. I went-"

Apparently shock had finally faded away to disbelief; the interruption she'd been expecting finally came. "God in Heaven," Janet gasped, sinking into a chair. "Not this..."

Sara winced and gave in to Uncle Alec's silent embrace, happily letting him wrap her up snugly like a bear going into hibernation. Sara thoroughly wished she were. "I went to the sanitarium. They kept me for several months, but when nothing they did had any effect, they ran more and more tests and finally realized it was the particular strain with which I was infected... they'd seen it before. It... it has never been - overcome."

"What?" Aunt Janet instantly burst into endless questions and copious tears, but Sara, with her ear pressed to her uncle's heart, heard his reaction over all: breath rushing out on a grunt of pain, as if he'd been shot.

Feeling a whole roomful of anguish as her own, Sara pressed closer, trying to gather her courage, continue and somehow soften the blow. "Aunt Janet, you asked me how I could know what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. Well... it isn't horribly difficult because... well, anyone can plan for the next four or five months." Her courage failed her as the kitchen was doused in a silence even thicker and more cloying than the last, and she hid her face, feeling completely unequal to the whole conversation. "I've come home... forever. There's just one thing, though: I'm no longer contagious, but I still can't see Cecily, can't be in the same room with her. Her risk of relapse is small, I know, but it's still too great for her to be exposed at all to this strain. I... I would have told you before she came, I promise."

Sara felt her chin gently lifted from its perch on a convenient button until she had no choice but to meet Uncle Alec's eyes. The expression she saw there made her heart ache. "Oh, Sara, of course we don't doubt that. You could never do anything to endanger Cecily. But... why didn't you tell us? We would have done anything to help you. Why did you go through it all alone?"

Sara stared at him incredulously. "After everything you went through with Cecily, do you think I could have asked you to suffer all of that again, for me, when I was so far away and there was still a chance I might get better? I just thought: 'I'll get well, and I'll write home cheerful things, and everything will be fine, as if it had never happened.' But it didn't exactly turn out that way. And then I was so afraid that I'd be taken suddenly without having told anyone about it, and that would be so much worse. I tried twenty times to write that letter, but the words just wouldn't come. And I thought, well, 'why stay in Paris? Everything I might want or need now is in Avonlea.' So I just came home. I'm sorry, I'm such a coward," she finished bitterly.

"Sara Stanley, don't you ever let me hear you say that again. You most certainly are nothing of the kind. The way you faced this alone, trying to protect all of us..." Alec paused a moment to get his voice back under control. "Coming home to be with us - not just because it was what you wanted, but because you knew it was what we would want - and all when you thought we might be angry at you for keeping your illness a secret... I don't know how anyone could have been braver," he choked, pressing his lips to her temple.

"I agree," Janet murmured, apparently having exhausted her tears for the time being. "But now we have to face what's to come... Sara, are you sure there isn't anything anyone can do? Oh, what a question, of course you're sure, or you wouldn't have said it. It's just-"

"It's a matter of accepting it," Sara finished, nodding. "And you're right, that part is still to come. Even for me, probably. After all the doctors and the tests and the sanitarium... it's still so hard to believe. But denying the truth, trying to hope... that's so much harder. Please, will you promise, you'll try to simply live with it? It will help so much. I want more than anything for us to be glad together again, to just be a family. That's all I want."

"I don't know if I can live with it, Sara," Uncle Alec murmured. "This damned disease - sorry, Janet, but that's what it is - has taken too much from me; it's too much to ask. First my little sister... and so nearly my baby girl. I still carry that fear around in the back of my mind every day. I don't know how I can just _stand back_ and let it take you, too."

Sara took a step backwards and lifted her head. "Because, this time, it's the only way to defeat it," she answered. "Because the only thing that can hurt me now is having to go without your blessing. Not knowing if..." Sara paused a moment to frame the precise words she wanted. "You know why Aunt Hetty hated my father so much, don't you? He was a useful target; if she focused all her anger and resentment on him, she wouldn't have to admit that she was angry at my mother for leaving - and dying - and that she was angry with herself for letting her leave the Island. Of course, my mother's marriage was her own choice, and her death was no one's fault. But all that blame, and guilt, and anger... piled on top of the grief... it isn't logical, but it's there. And I can't bear to leave like that, not knowing if you'll be able to let it go, to let me go simply because there's nothing else you can do - and that isn't your fault."

Sara was briefly engulfed in the warm wool once more, felt a soft squeeze to the back of her neck, and then the door was banging shut behind Uncle Alec.


	5. Chapter 5

Sara rarely saw anyone from the farm over the next few days, and so she stayed close to Rose Cottage, reveling in Aunt Hetty's and Aunt Olivia's obvious pleasure in her company. She couldn't even consider telling them the truth. Aunt Janet's damp, downcast face was a physical pain lurking on the surface of her memory, but Uncle Alec's _eyes_... Tears filled her own whenever she thought of him. That conversation had taken everything she had. Aunt Hetty was content to order her around and Olivia content to spoil her rotten, and that was all she could handle.

Felix, though, appeared more than once; Sara saw in an instant that he knew everything, but he never said a word about it. The closest he ever came to mentioning her illness was a chance remark (as Sara thought) made one unusually chilly night as they sat on the veranda of Rose Cottage, admiring the clear, starry sky and thinking of things so far away that neither felt the wind savagely biting at their faces and ears.

"Funny to think, on a night like this, that it won't always be winter," Felix said suddenly, after a silence so protracted that Sara jumped as it shattered.

"Yes, it does seem strange," she replied, almost to herself; she wasn't thinking of Felix at all, really, but of King Farm in the spring, the bright flowers, the new lambs, all the green fields and sunny days she'd never see again. Well, unless she was much mistaken, or much luckier than she had any reason to believe.

"We both have to keep remembering," Felix answered wryly, and almost immediately, as if she hadn't spoken. "Just keep reminding ourselves, and each other, that nothing lasts forever. Not the beautiful things, not the bad times. Nothing."

"I'll remember." They were both whispering now; in the dim starlight, this pact felt sacred, like an oath sworn under the vast eye of Heaven.

"Come home with me, Sara. Just for tonight. You can have my room, and I'll take Felicity's old bed."

Sara sighed. "I don't know if I should."

Felix cocked his head and looked at her for several moments. Sara couldn't read his expression, even as he spoke. "Trust me." 

Felix woke her at first light, before Aunt Janet was even up yet. Sara knew he meant to give her a chance both to assist Aunt Janet in the kitchen, thereby proving how much of an invalid she wasn't, and to face Uncle Alec before he left the house to begin the day's work. Felix apparently noticed her trepidation and winked at her. "Remember, Sara," he chided.

"Oh, alright, I'm up," Sara groused. "Now get out and let me dress."

"It's my room," Felix grumbled good-naturedly as he exited, to which Sara replied with a brusque pillow to the back of her witty cousin's brown head.

When she got downstairs, Felix had gone, presumably to the barn, and the kitchen fire was alight. Sara managed to light the lamps and start the tea before Aunt Janet appeared in the doorway like the ghost of Miss Havisham, her white nightdress and frizzy braid suggesting the image, while her sheet-white complexion and stunned expression topped the whole thing off. Sara looked away; it hurt to have anyone she loved looking at her like that. The doctors in Paris had done it often enough for anyone's tastes.

"Tea's almost ready," she said neutrally, fishing around for cups and saucers. "I suppose Felix will get around to bringing in the eggs at some point."

"That's Daniel's job," Janet replied automatically, still staring at Sara as if she might be an illusion.

Sara gave a frustrated sigh. "Felix brought me back here last night. I thought I might as well make myself useful. Please, Aunt Janet, either accept my help as it's meant or send me home, but don't keep looking at me as if I were about to disappear."

Janet stepped forward and hugged Sara tightly, apologetically, and Sara happily returned the embrace. "You're perfectly right, and I'm sorry, sweetheart. Now, between the two of us we should have breakfast on the table in no time."

They had, and it was soon being heartily devoured. Sara was collecting the toast on the rack when she heard her uncle's footsteps on the stairs, and she willed her hands to stop trembling as she joined the others at the table. She was refilling her aunt's cup when Alec walked in, and when Sara managed to raise her eyes to meet him, she nearly dropped the teapot.

Uncle Alec looked suddenly old to her eyes - old and worn, as if he hadn't slept in a week. And he was heading out the door without even a glance in the direction of the breakfast table. Every limb in Sara's body went rigid; her lungs froze in her chest. 'Oh, God, I've done this...'

"Have some breakfast, Uncle Alec!" The words burst out of her on a wave of desperation, an almost reflexive impulse.

Alec hesitated, obviously not having noticed her sitting there, but only momentarily; with just a perfunctory "no, thank you," he quickly continued out the back door.

Blood rushed back into the frozen extremities, her heart beat once again, and with a wild cry that caught on a sob, Sara launched herself out the door after her uncle.

"Uncle Alec, please!"

He turned in a flash and began steering her back inside. "Sara, get back in the house this instant before you catch pneumonia!"

Sara laughed harshly, and her tone slicing through the air surprised him into a swift halt. "Pneumonia! If only it were! I suppose, if I didn't recover, it would give me about a week, maybe less. If I had let you know when I was in hospital in Paris, is this what I would have gotten? You, pretending I don't exist - Felix making cryptic remarks - Aunt Janet gaping at me as if I were some kind of walking corpse! I hope I catch pneumonia! I can't take weeks, months of this; I'd rather go tomorrow!"

Tears were crystallizing on both their faces, and Alec dashed them away before they froze completely. "Sara. Maybe I'm a selfish old man, but I'd rather you didn't. I don't suppose it's occurred to you that this...time...is the only part that doesn't really involve you. This is the part when we all decide for ourselves how we're going to survive...losing you." He forced the last words out through gritted teeth. They'd begun making their way toward the barn, and as they stepped inside, Alec seated her on a bale of hay before hauling the door shut behind them. "After we've fortified ourselves as much as we possibly can, _then_ we'll move on to the bit when you'll be praying for five minutes alone."

As he took a seat beside her, Sara dropped her head wearily to his shoulder and sighed. "I'm sorry."

"For what? You gave me a pretty good lecture the other day on misplaced guilt; better start practicing what you preach, my dear." He gave her nose a soft tweak.

"I can't help it," she sulked. "It's because of me; I'm doing this to us."

"Not true. The only thing you've ever 'done to us' is given us the chance to love you. Do you think any of us would trade that away because of the pain we're feeling now?" Sara silently burrowed into her uncle's side. "Do you remember what you said to me when we were tied up in that fortune-teller's caravan? That you just wished you'd had a chance to say goodbye to your father. You've done all you could, Sara; you've come home to us. You've spared us _that_."

Sara smiled. "You're a very wise man, Alec King."

"Oh, yes? Well, if I'm so wise, how come I can never get anyone around here to do as I say? Now, I'm taking you in to your aunt to be fussed over, and don't come back out until you're wrapped up to her satisfaction."

A slight giggle involuntarily escaped her. "If you happen to see a pile of coats, blankets and scarves with a pair of feet sticking out, stumbling around the place on its own, that'll be me, wrapped up to Aunt Janet's satisfaction."

Alec grinned, and Sara rejoiced to catch a few shadows fleeing his eyes. "So be it. I'd rather have a bundle of clothing for a farmhand than an icicle."

Sara bounced up joyfully when she realized what he'd said. "I'll be right back!" she shouted, racing for the door in a rather good imitation of her younger self. This image was reinforced for her uncle when she suddenly froze mid-step, sprinted back to him, pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and then dashed off again.

"There can't be a world without her in it," he muttered to himself. "There simply can't be."


End file.
